In This Diary
by Kee-Chayne
Summary: Join the Marauders as they read the diary of James' mum, Astraea Potter, and learn of all her exploits and misadventures, sexual or otherwise. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at my mum in quite the same way ever again."
1. 1 September 1955

**Author's Note**

This story firmly ignores the canon that James Potter's parents were most likely in their old age—or at least, the Wizarding equivalent of old age—when James was born. Instead, Astraea and Reynard Potter are about twenty-four to twenty-five years old when this blessed event happens.

I'm also playing around a bit with the canon concerning the Longbottom family. In one of the books it is mentioned that Minerva McGonagall knows that Neville's grandmother failed her Charms O.W.L. Now, I'm planning on making Augusta Longbottom a contemporary of James' parents, which means, in this story at least, that she was at school from 1948 to 1955, but McGonagall only started teaching at Hogwarts in 1956.

Now if you were to adjust Augusta Longbottom's age so that she would be taking her O.W.L.s in 1956, that would mean she was only fifty-five or fifty-six years old during the events of DH—hardly a 'little old lady' as Neville described her.

So let's just pretend Flitwick loves to gossip about his students' O.W.L. scores, okay?

Argh, my head hurts…

**SPECIAL CREDITS!** Thank you very much to **SuperSpy**, who allowed me to borrow her idea of the 'thought spell' and the 'story mode' from her own story, **The Diary of Lily Evans**. If you haven't read it yet, GO READ IT. It's bloody brilliant, I tell you.

Haha, I used the word 'bloody'. –grin–

Okay, enough prattle. Go on, read, and don't forget to review!

* * *

_Summer, 1976_

"Padfoot, you prat, that was my foot!"

"Sorry, Moony."

"Ow! That was my _other_ foot!"

"Keep it down or Mum'll hear us!"

Four teenagers were slowly creeping up a winding staircase in the Potter mansion, dressed in only their pajamas. They were doing their best to keep quiet, although as anybody could plainly see, they were failing miserably.

"Well," said Remus waspishly, "if this gormless pillock would just quit trodding on my feet—"

"And if you didn't have such bloody big feet—"

"Quiet!" hissed James. "We're almost there. Just got to get past Mum and Dad and we're home free."

All four of the Marauders tensed as they tiptoed down the third floor corridor. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were unusually adept at detecting any mischief being performed in their house—much to their son's dismay.

As they passed by the set of ornate French doors leading to the Potters' bedroom, soft laughter and the rustling of crisp sheets reached their ears. The Marauders froze, pressing themselves against the wall.

"Should've brought the Invisibility Cloak," muttered Peter. He was quickly hushed by his three friends.

And then the sound of a throaty moan floated out into the corridor, followed by an almost inaudible whimper.

Mingled expressions of disgust and alarm crossed each of the Marauders' faces. Without being prompted, each of them ran down the hall like Voldemort himself was on their heels. They were urged on by Sirius, who kept hissing under his breath, "Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!" interspersed with frightened sobs of, "Ew, ew, ew, ew…"

Only when they had scampered up the staircase to the attic and safely locked the door behind them did any of the Marauders breathe. "Merlin's beard, that was upsetting," said Peter dryly. He was sweating profusely, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his damp face.

"'Upsetting'?" echoed Sirius, who was leaning against the door. "Try 'traumatic'."

"Hoy, at least you didn't actually _see_ anything," muttered James.

"Merlin's underpants, Prongs, are you saying you actually _saw…_?" Sirius' expression was nothing short of terrified.

"No, no, no," James interrupted hastily. "Holy Circe, I'd be scarred for life! No, I saw them snogging in the kitchen, is all."

"Oh."

There was a silence, thick with embarrassment and tension.

Then, Remus said, "Getting over the fact that we've just heard Prongs' parents shagging—"

"_Moony!_" James cried.

"Just _had_ to say it, didn't you?" Peter groaned.

"Bloody werewolf," grumbled Sirius.

"—what'd you want to show us?" Remus finished, looking at James.

Immediately, the disturbing mental image of his parents doing…_things_…vacated James' mind, to be replaced with the memory of a certain object he had found earlier that morning. "I was clearing a space up here for us to get plastered the night before we leave for King's Cross—"

"Typical," muttered Remus. "In celebration of our seventh year beginning at Hogwarts, we get trashed."

"—and," continued James, ignoring Remus, "I found this." He whipped out his wand and said, "_Accio_ _diary._"

A handsome, blue leather-bound book flew out of an open trunk and zoomed straight into James' hands, nearly knocking Peter on the head as it zipped by. James opened the diary to the first page and read aloud, "The diary of Astraea Selwyn, September 1955 to August 1956."

"Bloody Merlin, Prongs, you dragged us all the way up here for a bleeding _diary?_" said Remus incredulously.

"We had to hear your parents…" Peter trailed off and turned a violent shade of red, making a vague gesture with his hands. "…for a _diary?_"

Sirius slapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief.

"Not just _any_ diary, mates," said James, grinning. "My mum's old diary, from when she was in Hogwarts."

"So your mum wrote a fat lot about your dad. Big deal," said Sirius grumpily.

"No, actually," replied James, casually flipping through the book.

"So what, then, did your mum write about?" asked Peter.

James put on his blandest smile. "Well…things."

"Okay, Prongs, I know that smile," said Remus accusingly. "You've found something in that diary. Out with it."

The look spreading across James' face could only be described as wicked. "Let me put it to you this way, gents," he said. "After we read this, my mum will never be able to scold us about foul language, mischief-making, and casual sex ever again."

Typically, the words 'casual sex' was what had caught the Marauders attention.

Three pairs of eyes widened, and three jaws dropped.

Sirius straightened up and brought out his wand, then began conjuring up mattresses, sheets, blankets, and pillows.

"Sirius?" Remus asked weakly. "What are you doing?"

"Conjuring up bed things. What does it look like I'm doing?" said Sirius. "We are not leaving this attic until we finish reading that book." He dropped onto one of the mattresses and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. "Well?" he said, looking round at the rest of the Marauders. "What are you waiting for? Make yourselves at home."

Chuckling at Sirius' antics, the Marauders made themselves comfortable on the conjured-up mattresses. James created a small hill of pillows and perched on top of it, pompously rifling through the diary's pages.

"What on earth are you doing, Prongs?" asked Peter.

"Being a proper storyteller, of course," replied James. "You can be the silly grandchildren who scuttle all about their grandmother's feet."

"Would that make you the grandmother then?" asked Remus dryly.

"Hush! Do you want me to read this or not?"

"We would've done perfectly fine reading it all on our own."

"But ah, dear Moony, you forget," said Sirius slyly, "Peter here can't read."

"Hey! I can too read."

"Relax, Wormtail, Padfoot was joking."

"Wormtail wouldn't know a joke if it bit him in the—"

James cleared his throat loudly. "If you're _quite_ finished," he said, sounding an awful lot like Remus, which prompted the Marauders to laugh.

"Get on with the bloody reading, then," said Sirius.

"Right." James turned a page, and began to read. "1st of September, 1955…"

* * *

**1 September 1955**

Hogwarts Express

This must be the stupidest thing I've ever done. Keeping a diary, I mean. But according to Mum, it'll 'provide an accurate record of your last year at Hogwarts for you to enjoy in your old age' and 'serve as an outlet for that explosive temper of yours, dear'.

I do NOT have an explosive temper.

I have…an attitude problem.

That's DIFFERENT.

But my mum just won't LISTEN.

This will be my absolute downfall if anyone finds this.

I tell this to my two best friends, Augusta Madrigal, and Livy Stratford, who will categorically and cheerfully murder anyone who dares to use her full name of, 'Silvia'.

"Astraea, dear, if you're so convinced that the discovery of your diary will lead to your utter ruin," says Augusta, quite reasonably, "then it's a simple matter of keeping the thing hidden."

Oh, yes. Now why didn't I think of that?

Livy grins. "You're wearing that 'now why didn't I think of that?' look of yours," she tells me.

I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her and settle for a very dignified glare.

Augusta rolls her eyes. "Play nice," she warns, before returning her nose to her book. Augusta's a very scholarly sort. I've never seen her without a book within easy reach.

Right, then. Details. I suppose I should expound and so on. 'Proper documentation' and all that rot.

My name is Astraea. Astraea Eurydice Selwyn, but only Mum's allowed to use my middle name. I have two sisters and a brother. Cassandra is in her third year, this is Penelope's first year (and Merlin's bollocks has she been bothering me about the Sorting, but I'm certainly not telling her about it), and Hyperion just graduated last year.

Yes, yes, we have all names from Greek mythology. It's a family tradition. My ancestors were off their rocker. And apparently so were my parents.

Well, in fairness, I have it better than my brother. _Hyperion_. Honestly.

Merlin's bollocks, when I've got my own sprog he or she's going to have a nice, plain name. Like James. James is a good name. (Jamie for a girl, I suppose…)

I'm in my seventh year, have I mentioned that? I'm in Gryffindor, and a Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I generally get good grades, but I tend to get in trouble quite a bit, and I'm pretty sure Professor Meek hates me.

Bloody woman has no sense of humor, let me tell you.

_Well, to be fair, I wouldn't think it quite amusing if someone released several mice with Engorgement Charms placed on them in my classroom._

Augusta! Who the bloody hell gave you the bloody right to magic your thoughts in MY diary, hmm?

_Language, Astraea, darling. I was curious. You seemed very interested in that little book of yours. Who taught this spell to you, by the way? _

My mum. She was the one who suggested I keep the diary in the first place.

_And you went along with it, why?_

Well, I had nothing better to do.

_Merlin's beard…_

All right, already. I'm being completely idiotic about this. Now Augusta, GO AWAY. You're DISTURBING me.

**Aw, does this mean I can't join in?**

LIVY!

**I was wondering why you and Augusta suddenly looked like you were constipated. Clever little spell, this.**

_We did NOT look like we were constipated!_

**No, I suppose not, you looked like you had diarrhea. **

_Side effects of the thought spell?_

Hmm…I suppose so. Well, just in case, once we get to school I'm going to find a way to make the spell undetectable.

**By the way, we're all in one compartment, so why are we conversing in Astraea's diary when we could just talk?**

"Good point," says Augusta, and re-buries her nose in her book. So it's just me and Livy now.

**This'll be dead convenient for passing notes in class.**

True, that. So how does it work on your end anyway? I know you cast the spell by pointing at yourself then at the place you want your thoughts to go, but how do you see the words in the diary?

**Oh, it's quite clever, really. This little window appears on a flat surface of your choosing, and you can see the words appearing on the page in that little window. AND no one else can see the window.**

You're right, that IS dead clever. Where's your window?

**On my lap. It's quite amusing to see words crawling along on my skirt. **

How come you and Augusta know so much about this spell anyway?

**We've got our own diaries, though we've since stopped keeping them. Not every girl has your strange aversion to recording one's thoughts and secrets, you know.**

Be it on our own heads, then. Now get out of my diary.

**Or what?**

Or I'll charm it so you can't think in it anymore.

**I'd like to see you—**

Haha, that's got her there.

Livy just stuck her tongue out at me. I smile superiorly and return to my diary.

Augusta Madrigal and Livy Stratford. Some days they're the best friends any girl could ever ask for, others they're a right pain in the arse.

I think I've mentioned before that Augusta's a very scholarly sort. She gets the best grades in our year (except in Charms, haha), and has mastered the art of dry wit. She's a prefect, too, and really quite pretty, but a stickler for the rules and very bossy.

Livy is her exact opposite. I've never met a louder, more rambunctious person than her (except for Reynard Potter, but I'm NOT going to soil my diary with thoughts of that prat). She loves to have fun and doesn't quite care for studying, but manages to scrape by with pretty okay grades.

Oh, look, there goes John Lupin. He's a nice bloke, quite cute, also a Gryffindor and in my year, and he's a prefect too. He sees us and waves, and we all wave back.

Suspiciously, Livy's cheeks turn this brilliant shade of red.

Hmm…

OH MY DEAR SWEET SUGAR QUILLS!

MERLIN'S BOXERS, LIVY STRATFORD! YOU LIKE JOHN LUPIN!

Livy's glaring at me now.

Oops, did I say that out loud?

Apparently I did.

"Relax, Livy, I don't think John heard that," Augusta says soothingly, though by the way she raises her eyebrows at me I can tell she's rather surprised too.

Merlin, what a development! Loud, prank-happy Livy Stratford liking quiet, studious John Lupin? I never thought I'd see the day.

And there's Dorian Longbottom. Also a nice bloke. Personally I think he fancies Augusta. And I think she fancies him too. Both of them are bloody blind, if you ask me.

Ugh. And with them is Reynard Potter. Unlike his friends, he is NOT a nice bloke. He is the EXACT OPPOSITE of a nice bloke.

Merlin how I hate him.

I suppose I'm going to soil my diary with thoughts of him after all. Sigh.

Reynard Potter is the bane of my existence. He is a gormless oik. A bigheaded prick. An arrogant loser. An egotistical bully. A conceited toerag. And many other insulting things besides. Usually this'd be a clear-cut case of 'you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours'.

But NO. For some unfathomable reason he's made it his personal mission to make my life at Hogwarts a living hell.

No need, Potter. EVERY TIME I SEE YOUR BLOODY FACE IT GIVES ME BLOODY NIGHTMARES.

And he's smirking at us through the compartment door window.

OH NO HE'S OPENING THE DOOR.

Can I please curse his bloody head off? IT'S BLOODY TOO BIG ANYWAY!

"Hullo, ladies," he greets us, in what I'm sure is meant to be a suave voice.

Augusta and Livy completely fall for it. "Hullo, Reynard," they chorus, in a very friendly voice.

Traitors.

"Mind if we sit in here?" he asks.

Just as Augusta and Livy say, "Of course not," I say, "As a matter of fact, I do mind."

Potter smiles at me. "Oh, Kitten, you have no heart."

"When I'm dealing with you, usually I don't," I reply coldly. I bloody HATE his stupid nickname for me. 'Kitten'. It's so DEMEANING. But nooooo! Augusta and Livy think it's CUTE.

"There aren't any other compartments," says John, sticking his head into the compartment. "For once, this isn't some stupid ploy of Reynard's to try and piss you off." He glares at Reynard as he says this.

"Emphasis on the 'for once'," mutters Dorian deprecatingly.

Then Augusta and Livy turn pleading eyes on me, because Livy fancies John and wants him to sit with her and Augusta fancies Dorian and vice versa only they don't want to admit it to each other. Stubborn blighters.

"Fine," I mutter.

Potter beams delightedly and brings in his things, followed closely by John and Dorian, also dragging their trunks.

"Hey, Kitten."

"_What_, Potter?"

Then the blithering idiot grins me at until I'm pretty sure his face is going to split. "Nothing," he says.

ARGH!

This is going to be one BLOODY LONG train ride.

* * *

Great Hall – Start-of-term feast

Penelope's been Sorted into Gryffindor.

That's two Gryffindors in the family.

Hyperion and Cassandra won't be best pleased (they're both Slytherins).

But that's only because they now owe me ten Galleons each.

Eh? There's Potter with his wand out.

What's he up to now…?

* * *

Girls' dormitory, after dinner – Potter. Must. DIE!

I AM GOING TO KILL POTTER.

I AM GOING TO KILL HIM DEAD.

_Oh dear. Trouble on the horizon._

**Oh, I quite agree. **

AUGUSTA, LIVY, GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF MY DIARY. I'M TRYING TO PLOT POTTER'S ULTIMATE DEMISE HERE.

**And why, dearest Astraea, are you plotting Reynard's ultimate demise?**

MERLIN'S LEFT BUTTOCK, LIVY, ARE YOU BLIND? DID YOU NOT SEE WHAT THE BLOODY GIT DID TO MY BLOODY HAIR?!

**Oh, you mean the singing rainbow hair thing?**

_An extraordinary bit of magic, wouldn't you say? I especially thought the birds were a rather nice touch. _

OF COURSE YOU BLOODY WELL WOULD. YOU WEREN'T ON THE RECEIVING END OF POTTER'S AMUSING LITTLE JINX.

_No need for such violent capitals, my dear rainbow-headed friend. _

**Remember, grasshopper, one must not play pranks with anger clouding one's mind.**

I AM NOT A BLOODY GRASSHOPPER. NOR AM I YOUR RAINBOW-HEADED FRIEND.

_Now, Astraea, we'll be laughing at this someday, I'm sure._

ARGH. POTTER, YOU'RE DEAD.

_Or not._

_I suppose I'll have to write—er, think—down what happened at the start-of-term feast, since Astraea's too busy 'plotting Potter's ultimate demise'. Anyway, nothing seemed amiss while we were on the Hogwarts Express. Dorian went straight to sleep, John and I were both reading, Reynard and Astraea were mostly ignoring each other, and Livy was eating her tremendous haul from the food cart (as usual)._

**Hey!**

_Who's telling the story here?_

**What do you mean 'as usual'?**

_I mean, Livy darling, you are a pig, and are seldom found without edible material in your mouth._

**Am not.**

_Are so._

**Am not.**

_Childish, too. Now shut up. I'm trying to tell a story here._

**Fine. Be that way. **

_Livy's just stuck her tongue out at me. Oh, real mature, Livy._

_Anyway, so we got off just fine at the station, and Reynard, Dorian, and John snagged their own carriage, so it was just Livy, Astraea, and me. Good thing too. Astraea was beginning to twitch. I don't know what would've happened if she and Reynard had been forced into close proximity for an extended period of time, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have been pretty._

_So anyway, we got to the Great Hall, and everything was just fine. The Sorting went by, Professor Dippet made his start-of-term speech (to tell the truth, I've always been interested in what sort of speech Professor Dumbledore would make, seems like the sort to be more interesting, and anyway I've heard talk of Dippet retiring and Dumbledore taking his place), and the feast began._

_Just when I was beginning to think we'd be able to get through one evening without Astraea trying to kill Reynard (or vice versa), suddenly Astraea's hair turned all the colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, pink. _

_Then a flock of yellow canaries appeared out of nowhere and began flying in a circle around Astraea's head. Then they started singing: "Red and yellow and pink and green, purple and orange and blue, I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too!"_

_So of course this got the entire Gryffindor House singing along, while the rest of the students just laughed and laughed._

_And this is where it gets lethal._

_Astraea practically FLEW across the table for Reynard. She knocked aside plates, tureens, goblets, spilled food and drink all over the floor. The students in the immediate vicinity just got up and started egging her on, because she'd straddled Reynard, gotten her hands around his throat, and started choking the life out of him._

_Professors Slughorn and Camden managed to break up the fight, and Professor Dumbledore's given them both detentions. Reynard and Astraea, I mean, not Slughorn and Camden._

_Those detentions? On the same night. At the same time. In the same place._

_I always knew Professor Dumbledore was a bit of a loon, but to give Astraea Selwyn and Reynard Potter simultaneous detentions? _

_Two words: DEATH. WISH._

_If Astraea doesn't blow up the school trying to kill Reynard, then Reynard'll blow up the school trying to kill Astraea._

_Hogwarts is doomed. _

* * *

**EDITED! May 14, 2008:** Gawd, I can't believe I didn't see that... In the prologue where the Marauders finds James' mum's diary, James' reads the dates on the page out loud as "September 1950 to August 1951". It's supposed to be "September 1955 to August 1956". As you can see, I've already corrected it, but if you've spotted my error, good on you!


	2. 2 September 1955

**Author's Notes**

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to my first reviewers, **SuperSpy**, **bookwormofmassiveproportions**, and **SBs alive**. I LOVE YOU GUYS! –hug– And thank you also to SBs alive for taking to heart my PM! :D

Again, THANK YOU!

Also, thank you to those who added me to their Favorites and Alerts! And please, please, PLEASE leave a review if you added me to your Favorites or Alerts, telling me what you thought of the story, whether you liked it or not, what can be improved, critiques and comments, etc. Remember! More feedback equals more updates!

Oh yeah…and for those of you who occasionally peruse the **Pottersues LJ**, see if any of you can find the reference to that… :D

And now, I present…Chapter Two!

* * *

**2 September 1955**

Great Hall – Breakfast

**Hullo, Astraea. I can see you're busy (busy trying to melt Potter with your Glare of Doom, that is), so I'll write in your diary for you. Won't your mum be pleased to see you've been dutifully documenting? **

_Livy?_

**Yes, Augusta, dearest?**

_I think Astraea's finally snapped._

**Oh? What's she doing now? **

_She's muttering to herself, rubbing her hands together, and cackling. CACKLING._

**Oh, relax. It just means she's having rather violently graphic daydreams about a certain Mr. Potter. **

_And you're not concerned? At ALL?_

**Hmm…come to think of it, most of Astraea's violently graphic daydreams do tend to become reality.**

_I reiterate. Hogwarts is doomed._

**Go eat your breakfast, Augusta. I'm trying to document here.**

**Holy Circe, this spell is superbly convenient. **

**So, there's Reynard and his chums—Merlin, John's gorgeous…oh, right, sorry!—at one end of the table, eating. Morgan Brown and Graham Russell, the two other Gryffindor sixth year boys, are congratulating Reynard on a prank well performed last night. **

**Oh, dear, Astraea's heard him and now her Glare of Doom's turned on him. Poor boys.**

**On our end there's Violet Crowe and Esme McCourt, our roommates. Both are incorrigible flirts and gossip queens, and I might just kill Esme McCourt for making a move on John. **

"I do hope we get Arithmancy together, John, I'm absolutely _rubbish_ at it…"

**So why the bloody hell did you take the bloody class?  
**

**Don't fall for it John. DON'T FALL FOR IT!**

**He fell for it.**

**Damn you, Esme McCourt, and your fiendish charms! **

**And of course Augusta, Astraea, and I. And now Augusta's trying to dissuade Astraea from digging Reynard's eyes out with her fork, and has confiscated my bowl of porridge so I don't 'accidentally' upend it all over Esme's lap.**

**Isn't breakfast wonderful?**

Yes, it quite is. Now give me my bloody diary, Livy. I NEED TO REFINE MY PLANS FOR REVENGE.

**What've you got so far?**

Step One: Find Potter.

Step Two: Kill Potter.

Step Three: Hide Potter's body.

**Straight to the point, as usual.**

I DON'T WANT STRAIGHT TO THE POINT. I WANT CREATIVE!

_Not to mention you'd be thrown into Azkaban if you killed Reynard._

Too bloody bad.

_Anyway, you can plot later. Hide the diary. Dumbledore's coming down to pass out our schedules!_

Oh bugger.

* * *

STUDENT NAME: Astraea Selwyn  
STUDENT YEAR: Seventh  
STUDENT HOUSE: Gryffindor

Mondays

09:00 – 10:00 History of Magic  
10:00 – 11:00 Transfiguration  
11:00 – 12:00 Charms  
12:00 – 01:00 Lunch  
01:00 – 02:00 Potions  
02:00 – 03:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts  
03:00 – 05:00 Care of Magical Creatures

Tuesdays

09:00 – 11:00 Potions  
11:00 – 12:00 Transfiguration  
12:00 – 01:00 Lunch  
01:00 – 02:00 Charms  
02:00 – 03:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts  
03:00 – 04:00 Transfiguration  
04:00 – 05:00 History of Magic

Wednesdays

09:00 – 10:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts  
10:00 – 11:00 Transfiguration  
11:00 – 12:00 History of Magic  
12:00 – 01:00 Lunch  
01:00 – 02:00 Charms  
02:00 – 03:00 Potions  
03:00 – 04:00 Divination  
04:00 – 05:00 Care of Magical Creatures

Thursdays

09:00 – 10:00 Transfiguration  
10:00 – 11:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts  
11:00 – 12:00 History of Magic  
12:00 – 01:00 Lunch  
01:00 – 02:00 Potions  
02:00 – 03:00 Divination  
03:00 – 05:00 Herbology

Fridays

09:00 – 11:00 Charms  
11:00 – 12:00 Transfiguration  
12:00 – 01:00 Lunch  
01:00 – 02:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts  
02:00 – 04:00 Herbology  
04:00 – 05:00 Care of Magical Creatures

* * *

Not too bad a schedule.

**Ugh, Merlin, you got Care of Magical Creatures right after Herbology on Fridays. Bad luck, mate.**

You're right, that is killer. Still, I've dropped Astronomy, so—

_YOU DROPPED ASTRONOMY?_

**You can drop Astronomy after fifth year, you know…**

_HOLY SHITE, I DIDN'T KNOW THAT._

NOW who's using the violent capitals?

**My, my, my, Prim and Proper Miss Madrigal, SWEARING? Has the world gone insane?**

_Shut up, Livy._

I'm sure your schedule can't be that bad, Augusta.

_Oh yeah? TAKE A LOOK._

…

…

…

**You're right. Ugh.**

Sucks to be you.

_Nice to know I've got such supportive friends._

* * *

History of Magic – Note-passing—or is it thought-passing? Ah, who the bloody Merlin cares?

Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell…

_Yes, I think we've quite established that hell is bloody, thank you._

Shut up, Augusta.

**What's up?**

Potter and I've got detention tonight.

**So? **

HELLO?! HAVE YOU COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY LOST YOUR MIND?! I can't have detention with POTTER!

**Why ever not? **

For one thing, I DON'T WANT TO BE LOCKED UP IN BLOODY AZKABAN FOR MURDERING POTTER.

_Or blowing up the school trying._

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Augusta.

_You're quite welcome._

On the other hand, I have the sweet thoughts of my evil schemes to prevent me for murdering Potter and getting locked up in Azkaban.

**True…**

VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE, POTTER! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

**I know that laugh. It's the laugh of a woman with a purpose.**

_Merlin's beard, we'll all regret this._

**Shut up, you wet blanket. Astraea, TELL.**

Patience is a virtue.

**But you're my BEST MATE.**

Augusta's my best mate too, and you notice SHE isn't pestering me for details.

_That's because I know you're going to get into severe trouble for this, Astraea Eurydice Selwyn._

You sound like my mother.

_Who else is going to do the job while you're at school? Livy?_

**I resent that.**

_And yet I hear no denial._

**Sod off.**

…

_Livy?_

**Yes?**

_Astraea's cackling again._

**Oh, she's probably finalized her big evil scheme for getting back at Reynard.**

Indeed I have. BWAHAHAHAHA. FEAR ME, POTTER.

_Astraea…_

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

_Oh dear…_

**I'm excited.**

_For WHAT???_

**The show. Bound to be a good one, don't you think?**

_I'm SO glad you're enjoying yourself._

**Honestly, Augusta, you're just like John.**

_This from the girl who fancies him._

**Shut it, Mrs. Longbottom.**

_Stop calling me that._

**I know for a matter of fact that you like Dorian, so why deny it?**

_I do NOT like Dorian. He's just a friend. Get over your ridiculous theories._

**Yeah, sure, and I'm a blooming hippogriff. **

_Well, have you looked in the mirror lately?_

**Shut up.**

_That's quite enough, I should think. Go take notes. The both of you._

**Yes Mum.**

Yes Mum.

_Sod off._

* * *

Charms – BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I haven't got Charms with either Livy or Augusta (Augusta says Charms is a 'soft option', but I happen to know she got a Troll on her Charms O.W.L. last year—so there!), so they've no chance to magic their thoughts in here, so I get to have some peace and quiet for a change.

I've FINALLY concocted up a suitably underhanded plot to get my revenge on Potter, and I do NOT want them blurting out their thoughts in my diary while I'm ranting and raving about my INGENIOUS scheme.

I still can't get over it. Merlin, why haven't I thought of this before? It's SO simple, and yet SO effective.

WAIT A MINUTE. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?

A note just landed on my table. FROM POTTER.

_**Oi, Kitten. We have to talk. –R.P.**_

I scowl. I've long since ceased trying to get him to stop calling me Kitten. It's a hopeless cause. But it's still annoying. I think I've mentioned that already.

I quickly scribble a reply and pass it back, resisting the urge to chuck it at his big fat head.

What on earth for?

_**Quidditch try-outs.**_

Quidditch try-outs?

_**Kitten, in case you haven't noticed, we're the only two members of the Gryffindor team left.**_

Oh, right. Everyone's graduated. I'd forgotten.

_**I gathered. Tonight before our detention I'll talk to Dumbledore about try-outs.**_

Right.

_**Right.**_

…

…

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

BLOODY HELL!

BLOODY, BLOODY HELL.

I COMPLETELY FORGOT.

POTTER'S BEEN MADE CAPTAIN.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

WHY, GOD, WHY?! WHY MUST YOU TORMENT ME SO?!

* * *

Common room – Moping 

Here I am, sprawled out on the couch near the fire, my diary open on the coffee table. I'm hungry, but I'm too miserable to drag my arse down to the Great Hall.

Oh, look, in come Augusta and Livy through the portrait hole. They're carrying sandwiches wrapped in napkins. Aw, they brought me food. Aren't they nice?

"So," says Livy, handing me two sandwiches, "what's wrong with you?"

"I'm sad," I say forlornly, biting into the sandwich. Mmm…chicken.

"We can see that," says Augusta. I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. She's eating a salad for lunch. I didn't know the house-elves made salads. "But why are you sad?"

"Because Potter's been made Quidditch captain."

"Did _you_ want to be Quidditch captain?" Livy asks.

"No." I've been on the team since third year year, just like Potter, but I will admit he'll make a better captain than I. I'd be too busy beating Bludgers at them ruddy Slytherins to keep an eye on the team anyway.

"So then why are you sad?" says Augusta.

"Because I can't go through with my deviously underhanded ingenious scheme to get my revenge on Potter," I sniff. Merlin, I feel like crying.

"Why ever not?" asks Livy.

"Because if I go through with my plan to humiliatingly maim Reynard Potter"—I'm practically spitting his name, he makes me so mad—"then the Gryffindor Quidditch team is sunk."

"What were you planning on doing anyway?"

"I was going to put a Freezing Charm on his bollocks."

"…"

For once, I've rendered Livy speechless. Yay.

MERLIN'S MAGIC STICK, I CAN'T EVEN FIND JOY IN THAT. ALL BECAUSE OF REYNARD BLOOMING POTTER.

ARGH.

"And if you put a Freezing Charm on his bollocks…" says Augusta, urging me to continue, although I can tell she's trying not to laugh.

"He can't ride his bloody broom."

"I see."

The portrait hole opens again, and John comes in. "Hello Livy, Augusta." Livy is thrilled that John mentioned her first. I can tell. "What's wrong with Astraea?" He frowns and asks, "Oh no, what's Reynard done now?'

And then I really do start to cry.

Merlin's saggy buttocks. I just can't get a break, can I?

* * *

Potions – Still moping

"And welcome to another year of Potions! I'm so glad to see many familiar faces. Let me all congratulate you on a job well done on your O.W.L.s. Now, is everybody present? Yes? Very good. We shall begin the term with…"

I'm not in the mood to listen to Slughorn prattle on.

And Potions is one of my best subjects.

Oh, look. John's just passed me a note.

_Astraea, are you all right?_

I'm perfectly fine.

_You were crying in the common room._

My lunch didn't agree with me.

_Has Reynard done anything particularly offensive lately?_

Other than the usual, no. But thanks for asking, John.

_Are you sure? I can talk to him if you want. 'Talk' being a politer term for 'smack him silly' of course._

Oh, what a sweetie! I have to smile. Of all of Reynard's friends, it's always been John who's tried to get Potter off my back. John's good people. I can see why Livy likes him. Too bad. I might've liked a shot at him.

I write a reply.

Really, I'm sure. There's no need.

After all, all Potter did was destroy my chances of seriously and humiliatingly incapacitating him this year.

_All right. But if Reynard does something extraordinarily stupid…_

You'll be the first to know. I warn you, though; I might've already gotten my hands on by that time, so I apologize in advance for semi-seriously maiming your best mate.

_Apology accepted._ Ü

Thank you.

_Anytime_

I feel better already.

But I still want to freeze Potter's bollocks off.

"…and, yes, quite. Selwyn and Potter for our last pair. Should be very interesting, don't you think?"

SAY WHAT?!

_Astraea…?_

**Merlin, Augusta, I think she's stopped breathing…**

* * *

Defense – What the HELL?!

I have just enough time to scribble a small entry before we start copying notes for class.

MERLIN'S SODDING BEER BELLY, WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?

* * *

Defense, again – Just a friendly reminder

_Hi, Astraea, when you're no longer quite as dazed by Professor Slughorn's announcement, don't forget to see Professor Dumbledore for yours and Reynard's detentions, all right?_

_Love,  
__Augusta_

**P.S. – I do believe 'dazed' may be an understatement. 'Debilitated', maybe.**

_P.S.S. – Couldn't have used a little more tact, could you?_

**P.S.S.S. – I'm Livy Stratford, darling, I don't do tact. **

* * *

Muggle Studies – Sorry, Astraea, we're writing—er, thinking, bloody hell this is confusing—in your diary again…

_I do believe Astraea shall explode before the year is over._

**That would be messy.**

_Haven't you got notes to do or something?_

**Can't I just copy yours?**

_How will you learn?_

**Merlin's beard, Astraea's right. You DO sound like my mum. Speaking of which, where is she anyway?**

_Your mum?_

**Are you being deliberately obtuse? **

_It's not often I get to do that. To answer your question, Astraea's in Defense class. _

**Oh. How'd you get the diary anyway? Doesn't Astraea keep this thing on her all the time, convinced as she is that it'll be her 'ultimate downfall' if anyone finds this?**

_She must've been angrier than we thought. She stomped out of Potions and as soon as we were up high enough she threw the nearest object at hand at the nearest window._

**The diary.**

_Mhm. I Summoned it back and repaired the window. She doesn't need any more detentions on her plate, not with Reynard driving her up the walls._

**Does Reynard have class with her right now?**

_Yes. But I'm not too worried. John and Dorian are there, if things get a bit out of hand._

**Your darling Dorian, eh? Just can't resist saying his name, can you?**

_Quite the filthy hypocrite, aren't you, Mrs. Lupin?_

**Sod off.**

_Remind me again, Livy, why are you taking Muggle Studies? You're Muggle-born, aren't you?_

**Yes, I am, but I needed one other class I could sleep in besides History of Magic.**

_Unbelievable…_

**Whatever you say, Miss I-Got-A-Troll-In-Charms.**

_You're never going to let me forget that, are you? _


End file.
